


Distraction

by Kneesofmyheart



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Episode 70, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Night Stands, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kneesofmyheart/pseuds/Kneesofmyheart
Summary: After Yasha betrays them, Fjord looks for a distraction in Bazzoxan.He finds one in the guard's barracks.“Did Vaeril let you know that here in this bunk, we’re very friendly. Aren’t we?”The bugbear grins.“Yeah. Real friendly.”“And what do friends do?”“They share.”





	Distraction

**F**jord leaves the barracks, still disguised in his messenger bugbear form, then thinks better of it. Recent events weight heavy on his mind and they’re stuck, at least for the afternoon, in Bazzoxan. He looks at the sky- it’s roughly midday. If he’s gone for a few hours the Nein won’t think anything of it. 

Fjord turns on his heel and walks back into the Barracks where the huge ogre is finishing explaining about the laughing hand’s impending approach.

And Yasha, Fjord thinks, immediately tries to wipe that thought from his mind.

He needs Ale, or at least something to distract him for a few hours. 

The ogre glances at him, confused at his quick return. Fjord puts on his bugbear accent again, feigning exhaustion.

“Please, sir. Do you have a place I could rest for a few hours? I’ve been travelling with this message for so long, and the Ready Room is full.”

The ogre looks him over and grunts, pointing to a door over in the corner of the common room. 

“1 hour, fluffy.”

The ogre walks away to talk to a few guards, who don’t pay Fjord much mind. He walks over to the corner, and whilst still in shadows, transforms back into his normal half-orc self.

Then he steps through the door, hoping nobody saw him. There’s a row of three beds. Two are empty, there’s a young drow man sitting on the third.

Fjord lifts a hand, and the drow man looks at him.

He’s tall, fjord notices, and strong. His hair is short, almost a buzz cut, and he wears a simple uniform. Off duty clothes, fjord notes.

“Hello? I don’t... recognise you?”

Fjord takes a seat on the bed opposite.

“Yes, I’d understand the confusion. I’ve delivered an important message from the bright queen herself. The officers said I could rest here for a few short hours before I return.”

The drow nods, and sits back on the bed, stretching out his legs.

Fjord does the same, removing his boots to keep the bunk clean.

They sit there like that, in silence, before the drow says,

“You seem too strong to be a messenger boy... got a dark past?”

Fjord forces a chuckle.

“No. I was a sailor before I took this job. Got me in good shape, you might say.”

The drow man turns on his side and looks at him slowly.

“You’re here to rest, yes?”

Fjord feels a shiver down his spine.

“Yes... though there are plenty of different types of rest...”

The drow nods and stands up, swiftly walking over to the wooden door to lock it. He pauses with his hands on the latch, looking back at Fjord over his shoulder. 

“You want this, yes?”

Fjord swallows, then stands up and makes his way across the room. The drow grins as Fjord presses him back into the door, hand closing over the lock and shifting the bolt into place.

“Yes.”

Fjord presses his lips into the drow’s, and he kisses back hungrily, tongue quickly making its way into fjord’s mouth. It’s hot, and it’s wet, and it’s not passionate but it gets the job done, Fjord thinks.

The drow loops a hand into his armour and carefully starts to pull away the chest piece. Fjord pulls away from the kiss to help him, and soon he’s in just his underwear. 

The drow man pushes him, not roughly but with no love, down onto the bed, and starts to kiss him again, almost feverishly this time. Fjord licks up into his mouth, presses against the hard mattress.

His dick is straining in his breeches and he can feel the drow’s against his leg. He experimentally ruts up into it, and the drow moans into his mouth, gripping one hand into his shirt and another snaking down his chest to his thigh. 

Fjord shudders, feeling fingers ghost down and up his leg, on his stomach, on his ass, and lets out a breathy whine.

The drow chuckles at Fjords impatience.

“Sailor, tell me, what do you desire.”

Fjord captures his lips in a quick kiss and then leans his head back on the pillow.

“Use me, soldier. I don’t care.”

He feels himself flush at the admission, and the drow’s eyes spark with interest. When he speaks, his voice has dropped into something low and husky that sends shivers straight down to fjord’s groin.

“Anything?”

Fjord moans, and the drow takes that as an answer.

“On your knees, sailor.” He says, and steps away. His lilac skin is flushed dark purple, and his eyes “I think you’ll be pretty like that.”

Fjord nods, almost feverishly, and scrambles up, falling to his knees before the drow. He hangs his head for a second, and feels long, searching fingers in his hair. As they trace his scalp he whines, leaning his head into the hand. The fingers tighten in his hair, a tug towards the drow’s loose leggings. Fjord nods, hastily tugging them down along with his smallclothes, untucking the drow’s cock.

Fjord doesn’t hesitate, immediately taking it in his mouth. The drow makes a strangled noise and tugs on fjord’s hair. Fjord moans around the cock, slowly licking his way up and down, carefully tucking his lower lip over his growing tusks, and begins to bob his head around it. The drow bucks his hips, his breaths becoming shorter and more frequent, and fjord takes it deeper, his own cock straining against his pants.

Then there’s a knock. Fjord freezes, the cock still buried in his throat.

“Vaeril! Are you in there? Why is the door locked?”

The drow pants for a second, and glances down at fjord.

“_Hide.” _He whispers, turning towards the door. “Sorry, Rydell! One second!”

Vaeril pulls his dick from fjord’s mouth and shrugs apologetically, hurrying him towards the corner as he struggles to pull his pants on. Fjord grumbles and tries to hide behind the tall container at the far wall. As long as he doesn’t make any noise, he’ll be fine.

Vaeril, still flushed, approaches the door and unlocks it. Two figures step inside. Fjord holds his breath and watches from his vantage point, as Vaeril steps aside to let them through.

They’re tall, taller than the drow, and with a start, Fjord realises he’s an orc. He looks young, but strong, and he’s dressed in simple leather armour with a hefty-looking sword at his side. The other person to enter is a bugbear, covered in thick fur and plenty of scars.

“What’cha up to, Vae? Fighting your turkey?” The bugbear barks out a laugh. “Beating the dummy? Having some ‘me’ time?”

Vaeril stammers, and sits on the bed. The orc, however, walks over to the container and begins to strip off his armour. Fjord holds his breath as he approaches, eyes roaming over the orc’s green-grey skin. The orc removes his shirt and fjord has to stifle a whine as he flexes to put away his armour, muscles rippling. Fjord feels heat rush to his gut so quickly he feels dizzy, and tips backwards ever so slightly.  
There’s a knocking sound as fjord hits the wall and then rights himself, glancing back for just a second. When he faces forward again, the orc is staring at him, eyebrows furrowed, weapon drawn.

Vaeril hurries over, tugging lightly on the orc’s arm. He doesn’t budge.

“Rydell, I can explain. We were just- I was just-”

“Hey there, little one. Were you and Vaeril having play-time?”

The orc reaches out and pulls fjord from his hiding spot. Fjord trips, not expecting it, and falls into the orc, who catches him and pulls him up. Fjord’s hands are on the orc’s chest, and he’s breathing heavily against him.

“Huh.” He grunts. “Did Vaeril let you know that here in this bunk, we’re _very _friendly. Aren’t we, Durzol?”

The bugbear grins.

“Yeah, Rydell. _Real friendly.”_

“And what do friends do, Vaeril?”

“Rydell, he’s only-”

“They _share.”_

It’s all fjord can do not to moan as Rydell manhandles him onto the bed. He lets it happen, and the orc begins to roughly undress him. His shirt and breeches are launched across the room, and he groans as Rydell runs a hand down his chest. He laughs.

“Oh, so eager. You really found a whore, didn’t you?”

“Rydell, come on, he hasn’t said yes to this, wait-”

Fjord moans as a hand begins to slowly stroke him through his undergarments. With one hand Rydell holds him against the bed, and with the other, he’s doing long, slow touches along fjord’s cock. He moans again.

“Does this look like a no to you? Durzol, lock the door. Vaeril, come over and shut him up, will you?”

Fjord’s eyes are closed but he can feel it as Vaeril clambers onto the bed over him and forces his cock back into his mouth. Fjord lets it happen, widening his lips to let it shove into his throat.

Rydell mutters something and the touches stop, and for a second fjord panics, bucking his hips up into empty air. He’s so hard it’s unbearable. Then there’s the feeling of cold air on his cock, as his undergarments are removed. He feels a thick finger trail down his abdomen and around his dick, then probes at his arse. There’s some shuffling, and then a _pop _as Rydell uncorks something, and then the feeling of slick oil drenching his ass. The finger slowly enters him, and he yells, feeling it stretch his walls, but it’s so good, it’s so good.

Up at his face, Vaeril’s hips stutter and he curses, coming into fjord’s mouth. Fjord obediently swallows and gasps for air as Vaeril uses a hand to cover his mouth.

“Keep it down! We don’t want anyone finding out we’re doing this!”

Fjord nods, head thrown back as Rydell uses his fingers to pump in and out of him, going agonizingly slowly. Then he feels his walls stretch, as the orc adds another finger. He can see Vaeril, handsome and muscular, but tiny compared to the body of Rydell, staring down at him, face still relaxed and woozy from the orgasm. The bugbear, Durzol, approaches and reaches out a clawed hand to trail down Fjord’s chest and down to his cock. The expression on his face is awe, as he carefully fondles fjord’s balls.

Rydell removes his fingers and Fjord holds his breath, closing his eyes. Then there’s the press of something warm and wet at his hole and Fjord knows it’s not any more fingers. Rydell pushes into him roughly, and fjord bites back a yell. This feeling is like nothing else he’s ever experienced- the sensation of being filled, and held down, and _fucked_ into the mattress by not one but three men.

The orc begins to thrust his hips and fjord’s hands scrabble to grip onto the mattress as he’s pounded. The fiery pain quickly dissolves into intense pleasure and he groans, white spots at the edge of his vision. Durzol is grinning and runs a claw up the side of Fjord’s dick. There’s a shock of electricity, intoxicating and addictive, and he grips the sheets of the bed with his claws, holding on for dear life. Durzol wraps a furry hand around his cock and starts to pump him up and down, and Fjord’s mind turns to mush.

Rydell leans into him and growls something possessive in orcish into Fjord’s skin, biting down into his shoulder. That’s enough to push Fjord over the edge, come coating the bugbear’s hand and his stomach. The sensation is indescribable. It almost feels like his soul has been ejected from his body and he’s floating mindlessly, blissfully, in the ethereal plane.

Somewhere he registers the cock pulling out of his ass and hot come splattering across him, but he’s too far away to really comprehend it.

When Fjord comes to, he’s alone, splayed out across the bed. He lays still for a moment, trying to slow his breathing and take control of his mind again. Slowly he pushes himself up onto one elbow and assesses himself. There’s come coating his lower half, cooling slowly in the humid air. His upper thighs are littered with claw marks from Rydell gripping him, as well as a quickly forming bruise on his shoulder, near his neck.

As he stands, Fjord notices a small washcloth and basin left for him at the side of the room, with his clothes and armour folded neatly in a pile next to them. He smiles weakly, running a hand through his hair.

Maybe he should do this more often.

  



End file.
